


How to Kill a Nation's Heart in One Day

by KopiChamTeh



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:30:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6854668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KopiChamTeh/pseuds/KopiChamTeh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England flies over to the annoying lad's country for an ordinary conference, only to experience the most puzzling, heart-warming, and fateful day of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Kill a Nation's Heart in One Day

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [How to Kill a Nation's Heart in One Day](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/219451) by qosps. 



0

 

Midnight draws near. I gaze out into the ocean with a heart dying of despair. I am fully, and painfully aware of what is going to take place across the pond, yet I do not possess the ability to prevent it from spinning into motion.

I shouldn’t have cried, but my tear glands have simply betrayed me. How unbefitting of a person like me.

So I tell the people around me, who are staring at me with startled looks on their faces, that I’m simply overcome with the joy of embracing yet another day full of hope. I tell that to myself, too.

If as many as six impossible things can happen before breakfast, then a single miracle or two in twenty-four hours should not be anything out of the ordinary.

I tell myself so.

I can only tell myself so.

 

1

 

I had always thought of myself as the one who would reach the conference room first. Yet this time I opened the door to discover, to my surprise, Alfred—who usually preferred arriving on the dot—sitting at the conference table, eagerly wolfing down a hamburger. I was about to make my entrance when he declared without even lifting his head, ‘I cancelled the conference.’

‘Huh?’

Even if the lad was hosting the conference, even if the topics discussed today were trivial at best, even if the parties involved were hardly reliable, and even if the process would likely be a horrible mess, cancelling it so abruptly like this was still _way_ too arbitrary!

‘I won’t take any objections!’ Alfred lifted his head, and flashed a blinding grin at me. As always.

It was only then when I noticed the glaring absence of his glasses; I’d never seen him without them ever since that certain war between us. This sudden change made my stomach cringe slightly; To me, that war was a deep wound, long healed, but his surprisingly young look still brought up to mind those times.

‘…Fine.’ I averted my gaze; certainly not his first offence. ‘Then an early return for me it is. Hopefully this does not end up with you revealing that this is some elaborate ruse only when I’m back at the hotel.’

‘Haha, as if a hero would do such a terrible thing,’ Alfred rose to his feet, pushing his chair aside as he approached. ‘Don’t leave just yet, why not take the rare chance to have some fun in my country?’

‘Fun? Another one of your "McDonald’s Sampling Afternoons” is hardly _fun_.’ A dozen fast food restaurants in a single day was no slight matter. A brief recall of that horrific afternoon was brutal enough to make my stomach churn.

Alfred shook his head, clasped my arm, and started dragging me out of the room, ‘McD’s are great too but I’ve other plans for today that will make you never want to return to your country.’

I grappled for freedom but with little success. Alfred had always repelled physical contact, so it was really out of the common for him to be taking my hand this way—that had only happened when he was small.

I watched him drag me out of the room as I observed a minute of silence for my afternoon tea.

 

2

 

‘So—’ I jostled my way through the crowd, trying my best to follow an Alfred who was moving with admirable ease—‘what are we doing in such a crowded place? I don’t exactly find Times Square very “fun”!’

Alfred gave no reply, instead weaving through the throng effortlessly for a while more. I cursed silently to myself: How very daft of me to even believe in the prospect of the lad actually giving me ‘an unforgettable year’.

‘Don’t put up that face, Artie!’ Alfred stopped in his tracks and gestured for me to stand next to him. ‘Here! I’ll show you the might of a hero!’

Brows furrowed, I drawled, ‘Sure, I’d _love_ to see—’

A microphone materialised in front of Alfred, cutting off my words; an energetic voice typical of an American girl rang beside my ear, ‘Hey there, the theme of our show today is “love”, don’t you want to tell us something about that?’

As soon as she had dropped the last syllable, I saw, on the gigantic LED displays of Times Square, Alfred bearing an strangely sombre demeanour.

‘Of course!’ Briefly lifting a corner of his lips, Alfred smoothly took over the microphone from the girl’s hands. ‘There’s someone very important to me; he raised me, and when I was a kid, he was a brother and a father to me. Then I left him—every boy wants to escape the shadows of his elder brother and father, right? We had a terrible relationship then, but I never stopped believing that there’ll come a time when we can open up to each other again. I managed to do just that, but I don’t want to stop just there.’

I stood there incredulous, my mind undone, unable to peel my eyes off Alfred as he turned towards me. Without the glasses getting in the way, his eyes seemed even more entrancing, the unfurling sheet of blue so luscious that I almost failed to breathe. 

He just gazed into me, and spoke as if he had recited it for more than hundreds of thousands of times.

‘I want to protect him, I want him to be mine and mine only. I like his laugh, his frown, his inedible scones that he’d try his best to make. I don’t know whether this is what people call “love”, but I sure as hell want to be that person’s hero for as long as I live.’

The entire square was flush with rapturous cheers and whistling; and much to my dismay, I felt heat creeping up my face.

Alfred’s eyes were full of irrepressible mirth, and I caught his unsaid words effortlessly: _How’s that? Quite the_ hero, _don’t you think?_

Silently I inclined my head, and muttered softly.

‘Git.’

 

3

 

My heart was still galloping in my chest even though we were miles away from the square. ‘For goodness’ sake, Alfred! What in the world were you thinking?!’

‘Shouldn’t a hero’s confession be a grand one? And this way, you can’t deny it anymore, Artie; this was broadcasted live throughout the whole of the US.’

What an odd way for the lad to be meticulous for once.

‘Humph,’ I averted my gaze from Alfred to conceal my countenance, then scoffed, ‘should’ve just gone with a brutal rejection then.’

‘You won’t,’ Alfred’s words radiated certainty.

Speechless, I was. ‘… I’ve got _no_ idea where all that conviction comes from.’

‘Research, lots of it,’ a smile tugged at his lips. ‘This is the optimum way to go. And you’ve liked me since a very long time ago right mwahahAHA!’

I had to suppress the urge to stuff his mouth with scones. What kind of attitude was that for someone who had just confessed?! To top it off, I couldn't even deny his words!

‘Next, we’ll go to the amusement park that just opened last month; I know you’ve always wanted to go!’

Yet another irrefutable claim. Thinking that one ought to have the good grace to bestow on him the honour of my presence just this once, I begrudgingly nodded under Alfred’s blue gaze.

 

4

 

Surprisingly, Alfred thrust not a single glance at the rollercoaster and drop tower, instead taking me to the ferris wheel ride.

After we were seated in the capsule, Alfred fell ghost-silent. When I looked up at him, I saw the big boy staring fixedly through the window at the world outside. In his eyes, the wet, lustrous swirl of blue coruscated ruefully under the dappled streams of sunlight; and for a moment, I thought tears were going to fall from them.

I cast away that ludicrous thought at once: A superpower that had not let out as much as a single sob for two centuries that he was, of _course_ he would be overjoyed to the point of tears by a ride on the ferris wheel.

That said, recalling that this seemingly insouciant young man had wept and wailed relentlessly in appeal for me to stay by him before, I attempted my most nonchalant front and said, ‘Quite unlike you to be making so little noise.’

Alfred turned his head at that, making that shimmering cerulean even more visible to me—what a waste for the child’s perennially sublime eyes to be tucked away under a pair of glasses.

‘Thought you’d be glad that I’m being so quiet.’

Rather the unexpected response. ‘Usually I will, I suppose… but, occasionally—the very, _very_ rare kind of “occasionally”, I mean! Occasionally I do feel somewhat ill at ease without you making so much noise… and all.’

Alfred blinked, then his face broke into a huge grin, his voice lowering slightly from the usual migraine-inducing pitch, ‘Sure enough, no matter how many times it’s been, you’re still quite the question mark to me.’

‘Of course, the intricate workings of the British Empire are not to be easily unravelled by a kid like you.’

‘So the hero’s still gotta try and know you better DDDDD’

‘Yeah—wait a second, that’s not what I mean!’

I glared in exasperation at Alfred, who was laughing like a drain. However impressive that bloody _confession_ might have been, Alfred’s attitude towards me had not changed the slightest. I rubbed at my chest, feeling an inexplicable wrenching at my heart.

He doubled over with hysterical laughter, which was abruptly replaced by tears. That compelled me to inquire hastily in alarm, ‘What’s wrong? Do you feel sick? I thought there isn’t anything going on in your country significant enough to affect you?’

‘I’m fine, a hero always is!’ A maniacal grin he maintained, with tears rolling down his cheeks all the same. ‘What about you? Your heart must hurt quite a bit.’

That alerted me to a steadily growing burn in my coronaries. Frowning, I started, ‘An earthquake, perhaps. Don’t be conc—’

The remainder of my words, along with my entire body, was drawn into an embrace by Alfred. He murmured right into my ear, sending pleasant waves of static down my nerve endings, ‘You’re leaving 2pm, right?’

‘Hm.’ I foraged my brain for possible reasons for this unprompted mention, but surmised it to be as cryptic as everything else he had done today.

He tightened his hold. ‘There’s so much more in my country that even an old man like you would like.’

After a second of hesitation, I extended my hands across his back for a light pat. ‘You’ve given quite the cordial invitation, so I’ll come again in a few days; so don’t throw a tantrum as if you’re still a child; personally it’s rather to my liking, but you’re a superpower now.’

‘“In a few days”, huh…’ Alfred buried his face into my neck; I could feel a warm fluid trickling down my back. ‘Since you said that, the hero shall persevere.’

We remained locked in the embrace until the wheel completed its revolution. As we disembarked, his expression reverted to what one would call ‘normal’.

 

5

 

I stared out of the aeroplane window, at an Alfred who was waving frantically at me, calling something at the top of his voice, almost as if we would never see each other again. What a daft lad. To nations like us, a few days would sneak by in a matter of seconds; We’d have days, months and years ahead of us to get to know each other, with the propitious stability of the current situation.

I found myself smiling and was immediately embarrassed by the teenage girl-like emotions that had taken hold of me. Fishing for some rest, I slid on my eye mask and let my body gradually slip away from my consciousness. The searing sensation in my heart persisted, yet no news about earthquakes had arrived, and my brain, initially refusing to be placated, was mired in a steadily escalating sort of premonitory tremor.

 

6

 

Around nine in the evening, a maelstrom of agony tore my flesh and bones asunder, blowing out my slumber with a crippling lurch and causing me to scream in raw pain. Before my brain could even begin to comprehend, my vision was extinguished by a rage of pitch darkness.

 

7

 

I could sense my body plummeting into the frigid, watery abyss, my family’s wails and screeches a carnage in my soul.

 

8

 

Only twenty minutes and I was looking straight into the eyes of death.

 

9

 

It appears, that I would never witness the end of today.

 

0

 

Tomorrow will never arrive.

A glance at the watch says nine-thirty.

I gaze out into the ocean with a heart dying of despair. I am fully, and painfully aware of what is going to take place across the pond, yet I do not possess the ability to prevent it from spinning into motion.

How many confessions has it been? How many times did he promise to come back in a few days? How many times did I lose it in front of him? How many more does this have to be?

I’ll take a break today. Even a hero gets tired sometimes; I can no longer wrap my mind around how to save a sinking island nation in a single day. After so many ‘today’s, I’m really thrown for a loop by how low I can draw my line at. I used to sneer at how protagonists in popular fiction would do anything for love, but now I understand.

This is no longer something that I, as a person or a nation, can unravel; so all I can hope for is a miracle.

If as many as six impossible things can happen before breakfast, then a single miracle or two in twenty-four hours should not be anything out of the ordinary.

I tell myself so.

I can only tell myself so.

I guess I really am burnt out today; even my thoughts have become exactly the same as yesterday. Although I didn’t start crying like I did yesterday (or was it the day before? I’ve lost the concept of time).

I draw in a deep breath and swing around to leave the beach.

A hero will never go back on his words.

Since I promised Artie that I’ll persevere, then no matter how close my mind is to crumbling, I’ll keep trying to unshackle him from death’s certainty in the infinite number of ‘today’s. After all, who else is going to be his hero, if not me?

With this thought, I put on a blinding grin. As always.

God bless America.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:  
> A short fic that was promised to a friend of mine *laughs* 
> 
> Groundhog Day AU (probably a spoiler for anyone who’s watched it) and I’ve thrown in something about a marriage proposal broadcasted live in the entire US that I’ve read on a magazine as well *laughs* 
> 
> This time, again, an ending filled with love and hope*´∀`)´∀`)*´∀`)*´∀`)
> 
> T/N:  
> The ‘hope’ is lost in translation, I’m afraid *´∀`)´∀`)*´∀`)*´∀`)
> 
> The summary is written by me. I apologise if it's uninspiring or misleading. It's intended to be.
> 
> The author’s notes were originally inserted at the beginning, but I personally deemed it too much of a spoiler for those who have watched Groundhog Day, so I moved it to the bottom to preserve the element of surprise. Same reason for not tagging the AU as well. But not knowing what Groundhog Day is would not impair your reading experience in any way.
> 
> Do drop a comment! The author is very fluent in English and I’m (going to make) sure she’ll pop by to read them.
> 
> Please help me by pointing out errors in the text as well. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Translation proofread by gilbertsfivemeters
> 
> EDIT: Unfortunately, the author has, in unexplained circumstances, quit the USUK fandom and deleted all of her USUK works. The original can no longer be found. The link I have included is of the first draft of my translation, which contains the original text. (Please just ignore my first draft. It kills me to even glance at it.)


End file.
